


The Vanguard of Destruction

by AlternativeImaginativeBrand



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anvil of the Void, End of the World, F/M, Gen, Legion of the Dead, Mages, Other, Templars, The Darkspawn Chronicles, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeImaginativeBrand/pseuds/AlternativeImaginativeBrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternative world where the Warden was killed at Ostagar and Alistair, last of the Grey Wardens, led the effort to defeat the Fifth Blight, the Archdemon sends his champion, a Hurlock Vanguard, to the capital of Ferelden with a single prerogative: Denerim must burn!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whispers of the Darklord

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the beginning. The real story will happen just around the corner.

_We have returned..._

_The unremarkable surface races rally to defend their precious city._

_Do not be intimidated by their audacity; baffling though their belief in their chances of victory may be, know that it is nothing more than that._

_You are a vanguard; your mind is great, though it belongs to me and to me alone. You are no mere grunt - through you I will lay this pathetic world to ruin._

_The rising horde will be victorious, but only if directed by a higher intelligence._

_YOU will be the agent of my victory!_

_Now go forth, and destroy them all!_


	2. Storm the Gates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the gates of Denerim, once the crown jewel of Ferelden, the darkspawn horde greets its leader: the Hurlock Vanguard, champion of the Archdemon himself, born to lead and eager for blood...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we begin the story proper. You'll like this portrayal of the darkspawn, I'm sure.

The image of Denerim was gloomy set against the citrus orange sky. The idle flames lapping against the walls that cut off the city from the courtyard were mixing surreptitiously with the grey to white to orange-tinged clouds hanging in the skies over the barely structural city, the ground in places stained a nasty shade of red from the blood spilt over it. The atmosphere hanging over the city was static with the Taint, the loud and inhuman wails of the darkspawn filling the air. 

As the vast horde marched on the gates, a sinister figure stepped into the courtyard. He was wearing a suit of dirtied armour, a spiked shield and sharp sword slung over his back like a demented harp. His every step sounded like the beating of a heart, his eyes only blank mirrors reflecting the horrified faces of his victims. Despite standing no taller than any other hurlock, this one was no mere piece of cannon fodder, nor a convenient distraction. No, this was the enforcer of the end times, the leader of the horde and above all the champion of the Archdemon himself. A hurlock known only as...

The Vanguard. 

\---

The Vanguard walked through the courtyard gates slowly, ignoring the other, overenthusiastic darkspawn in a hurry to throw themselves onto the humans' swords. For as the Vanguard he did not need to prove anything to the others - he heard the words of the Darklord* personally. As he looked to the sky, the voice came to him, private and secretive whispers in a language completely meaningless to the surface people and the dwarves aboth: 

"Vanguard, our time is now," said the voice, its deep and slightly raspy tone coming through his head directly rather than his ears. "You are the harbinger of this pathetic world's destiny. Though the horde remains mine, you possess the power to form your own personal army. 

"Now, to enter the city, you must follow this line of action:" 

And, in no uncertain terms, the Darklord told him what he must do. 

\--- 

"First, you must gather an army of followers. Seek out loyal fighters and make them your thralls. Through you they will serve my will." 

The secrets of how to enthrall his fellow darkspawn slowly crept into the Vanguard's head; as the voice of the Darklord dissipated, his eye fell on two darkspawn standing beside him. One was a hurlock with a battleaxe in his hands, the other a genlock carrying the same shield as the Vanguard but with a waraxe instead. 

He grabbed the hurlock by the back of the head, lifting him into the air, even as the genlock stared at what was happening with a mixture of shock and awe. White lines began appearing around the hurlock's face, and he began spasming with apparent pain. "The Darklord has marked you as my servant," the Vanguard growled, not in the least concerned about the pain the hurlock was clearly feeling, or the terrified expression on the genlock, who was smart enough to know he was next. 

"Thralls who excel will be rewarded; those who fail will be disregarded. That is the darkspawn way, and so it is with me. Now cease your futile struggling!" 

After what seemed like eternity, the lines had spread across the hurlock's entire body. The lines exploded from his body in a flash of white light, and when the genlock blinked a few times to blank out the lingering images, the hurlock stood up straighter than usual, showing no trace of anything out of the ordinary having happened apart from from that pose. 

Afterwards, the genlock felt strong fingers clenching the back of his head, the sharp nails digging into his dirty scalp. As the unseen assailant lifted him into the air, he felt a searing heat spreading out from his face down his neck and towards his chest and shoulders. As the heat sensation travelled down his torso towards his legs, a deep voice growled into his ear, "It's your turn," and then everything was white...

\---

"Now take up your weapons, thralls; the Darklord commands it!" 

But neither of them budged. In fact, they showed no sign of any interest in obeying him. Angry with this flagrant display of disobedience, the Vanguard was about to backhand the hurlock as an example when the Darklord spoke up to clarify for him. 

"Your devotion is admirable Vanguard, but our thralls respect only power. You can only gain their loyalty through combat. **Show them the Vanguard was born to lead!** " 

Growling just above the audible level, the Vanguard marched them up to the entrance to the Courtyard and turned to face them. "Observe, thralls. I will show you power I wield!" Right on cue, the foolish city defenders began pouring into view. Some of them were carrying swords and shields, while others lugged crossbows over one shoulder. They were followed by several mabari, apparently under the impression that dogs could stop him. The Vanguard shrugged; in the end, they were all going to die one way or the other, so why not put on a show?

He grabbed one particularly overzealous defender by the neck with his left hand, dealt a vicious punch to his stomach with his right and then slammed him to the ground, standing up just in time for his boot to crash down on the poor wretch's throat with a satisfying crunch. He then turned his attention to the defender's more experienced friend, who had held back and now was moving in, his eyes trained on the vanguard's chest. The Vanguard smirked, his hand already reaching for his longsword. 

He drew his sword with a thrilling screech of metal against metal and in the same move took a step towards the defender, side-stepping the blade while bringing the pommel of his weapon smack into the man's face, without even pausing for breath; then, while the man was getting to his feet, the darkspawn kicked away his wooden shield , which trundled off in the direction of an approaching mabari hound like a fallen-off wagon wheel. As the man turned around on his hands and knees, apparently attempting to chase after the shield, the darkspawn impaled him on the full length of his blade, the human now doing an excellent impression of dead meat on a stick held over a fire. 

Chuckling darkly to himself, the Vanguard put his boot on the body's back and with some effort jerked his sword out, the man's heart stuck on the end. "Dis _gusting_ ," the darkspawn moaned as he dislodged the 'orrible organ from his slightly-blunted blade. 

But he had no time to worry about that. A crossbow bolt shot hit him square in the ribs, cut through his specially-made armour and sent him flying backwards. The Vanguard realised what had happened and cursed himself for forgetting about the crossbowman. 

The thought of the thralls laughing at his so-easily-induced knockback was enough make him get up despite himself and yank the bolt out of his chest, regardless of what impact the bolt might have caused upon entry. His strong hand found his sword, his off-hand only just bringing his shield down in time to deflect the next bolt. ' _He got lucky that time_ ,' the darkspawn thought. ' _But his luck is about to run out._ ' 

He practically jogged up to his opponent, who had reloaded by the time he got there, and bashed him in the face with the shield; from there he followed up with a delightful figure-eight move on the man's chest. Within seconds, the crossbowman keeled over, his eyes already glazing over before his body hit the earth. 

By the time the dog finally showed up, a small army of un-enthralled darkspawn had appeared around him. The Vanguard swatted the dog aside, but two crossbowmen and three warriors, accompanied by even more dogs, were approaching. "Lay down your lives for the Darklord!" the Vanguard shouted as he and the other darkspawn charged into the fray. 

\---

By the time he returned to the thralls, their mouths were practically agape with shock. They had seen him face down 5 enemy soldiers while his entourage of other warriors dealt with the mabari hounds. The blood on his armour smelled of fresh iron and rusted steel... glorious! 

"Now do you trust me?" he growled at his thralls. The genlock nodded and they kneeled. "We will follow you into battle, o Vanguard, to whatever end. If by our lives or our deaths we can serve the Darklord, we will," the hurlock almost laughed. The Vanguard gripped their shoulders and raised them to their feet, but as he was doing so the Darklord spoke up again. "The thralls are loyal now, Vanguard, but you need the Ogre. Only he can smash through the barricades so effectively. You'll find him in the courtyard under attack. **Rescue him**!" 

The ogre fought bravely from where the Vanguard stood, but it was clear he could not afford to hang in there for much longer. He turned to his followers. "Come, thralls! We must save our fellow darkspawn. Draw their attention while I administer healing." 

It made practical sense, but he had a feeling the thralls were grumbling to themselves as he raced up, splashing the Health Poultice into the ogre's gaping maw. he drew his sword and shield and joined the battle with the defenders. 

It was short and bloody, with the hurlock pummelling one to the ground and splitting his skull with his battleaxe while the genlock swung his waraxe down on the first crossbowman's toes blunt side, then chopped his legs while he was distracted. The Vanguard personally bashed the other crossbowman with his shield before shanking him while he was down. From there, the ogre let out a bellow that sent any lingering defenders running. 

Afterwards, the ogre attempted to say "Thank you"; unfortunately like all ogres he had very little teeth and a bad tongue so it came out more like "Than k'ou."

"You're... welcome," the Vanguard sighed. "Now, come on. The Darklord has decreed that you join me in breaking down barricades and fences, and you _will_ obey His will." 

The ogre leaned in right up close and growled at the Vanguard, "Buh waddif me no wanna hel pew?" 

The Vanguard did not flinch. "I was hoping you'd ask," he snarled. Then he grabbed the ogre's face. 

\---

"Lord Howe, we cannot delay any longer," Ser Cauthrien insisted. In front of her Arl Rendon Howe stared out the window and shivered at the sight of the darkspawn slashing open the defenders; for he realised he would now be about to face the same fate. That was the decision of King Alistair; retribution for his actions, the Warden-King had said. "Nathaniel deserved a better father than me," he mumbled as he put the Tevinter sword over his back and grabbed his shield. He looked at the woman with the dark red hair and sighed. "I wish I had seen what I was becoming before Loghain's power grab, Cauthrien. My failure to stop him, far more than anything else, is why I'm here now, and I feel sick in the eyes of my Maker and my brothers-in-arms." 

Cauthrien put her hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing we can do about it now, my Lord," she consoled. "The only thing left to do is serve King Alistair... whatever I might think of him." And with a swish of her ponytail she turned and walked out, followed a second later by Howe. 

\---

"Now, do you have any _other_ questions?" the Vanguard snapped. The ogre's expression was blank, as if he had not heard the question correctly. Then, suddenly, his face broke into a big, toothy grin. "Wen me start?" 

\---

"It's Arl Howe!" came the cry from the edge of the small crowd. Then the defenders turned around and cheered as he approached them. Stopping a few feet away from them, Howe raised his hand for silence, the only sound being the clanking of his approaching bodyguards' armour and the panting of the many mabari. 

"Now, I know some of you fear you will be killed in battle," he began, beginning to pace back and forth. "Others among you, suspecting the best, are certain you will live to tell the tale," he went on. "Well, let me tell you now... abandon any notion of getting out of this alive. Your fears of death are about to come true." 

Fearful murmurs spread across the crowd, including mentions of "Is the arl crazy?" and "Why are we following him again?"

"Friends!" he called to them, raising his hand again. When this did not grab enough attention, Ser Cauthrien barked, "Silence!" 

When they quietened down, Howe went on. "The Legion of The Dead is present. These brave men and women have sworn to die fighting darkspawn, and know it's them or Orzammar's civilians. Well, today, it's us or the ordinary people of Ferelden. Beyond that, Tevinter, Orlais and even the mighty Qunari may yet have to stand against the Blight. We must hold the line; the lessons of the Legion, let them be our lessons today. Today, we will fight to give King Alistair the time he needs to slay the Archdemon at the head of the horde. If we buy the king even a single vital second to plunge his sword deep into the dragon's skull, we will not have died in vain. Now, **will anyone challenge my words**?" 

And in that cheering crowd, no one spoke a defiant syllable. 

\---

Out they went, hearts set against the clock, their hands on their weapons and shields. Howe was at the centre, his Tevinter sword deliberately being used to draw attention. The darkspawn descended upon them like mad things, eager to slash, to maim, to kill even faced with certain death. Howe steeled himself; the horde would pay for its actions at Ostagar. He would make sure of that at the least. "For Ferelden!" he shouted as they rushed out to meet them. 

\---

"I must alert you to a new development, my champion," the Darklord intoned. "What is thy bidding, my master?" the Vanguard's gravelly voice grumbled. 

"A human lord hunts us, Vanguard. Break through the western barricades to flank his forces, then **show him what we know of death**!" 

This was the kind of order he had no trouble carrying out. 

"Break through those barricades, thrall. The Darklord commands it!" he shouted at the ogre. "Me agree!" the ogre grinned as he charged off. 

Seeing the first barricade, the giant darkspawn bellowed loudly, then reached into the ground and picked up an enormous boulder. He threw it headlong into the first barricade, where it crushed the defenders manning it, then rolled over the defenders manning the second barricade before breaking through the second. 

"No subtlety, that's their problem," the Vanguard swore as he charged through the narrow passage, his entourage close behind him. 

They were upon the defenders from their right flank before the human even knew what was happening. The ogre grabbed his bodyguard before she'd barely time to yell, "Defend the arl!" squeezing tighter and tighter until her spine was crushed, at which point he dropped her and swung his fists down simultaneously. 

"He's just lucky I wasn't there when he did that," the Vanguard muttered as he noticed two genlocks flying away overhead as a result. 

He burst through the crowd and swung his sword at the offending human's neck. He missed narrowly as the human parried the blow, then smashed his shield into the Vanguard's unsuspecting face. Recovering from the blow, the Vanguard found himself at the end of his tether. He let out a fierce war cry, sending most of the humans to their feet before the darkspawn descended upon them. 

The strong human moved in, her greatsword at the ready, but even as she swung a fierce downward swing, the Vanguard wasn't there, dropping and rolling as soon as he saw her hands above her head and she got close enough. He spun round, then dealt a vicious stab through her stomach; she coughed heavily for a moment, then lugged her sword around in a wild spin that beheaded two unsuspecting genlocks. The shield blocked the blow numbly, but the Vanguard knew the pain in his hand was from the impact. He rewarded her for this empty injury by thrusting his sword through her heart, which he had a better idea of from this angle. There was an amusing moment where the sword hung over her head, as if it were about to come down, before it fell down backwards and dragged her down with it. 

That just left the lord. He led with a nasty kick in the back, then swung his sword down with the force of a shark's jaw closing; the Vanguard just was a few milliseconds away from death when he parried the blow. The darkspawn pushed down on his shield, propping himself up on his arm, though he knew from the strain of pushing down that he could not last much longer. Realising the human had let his guard down in the center, he drove his boot sideways into the lord's stomach, throwing him off balance just long enough for the Vanguard to rise, slash across his chest with the spikes on his shield and follow up with a direct hit through the heart. The pathetic human's eyes glazed over before he fell, and the darkspawn had grabbed his sword, sensing its uniqueness immediately, before his body even hit the ground. 

\---

"You have done well, Vanguard," the Darklord whispered, a pleased tone creeping up in his sinister voice. 

"Thank you, Master," the Vanguard muttered back. "What are your orders now?" 

"Continue onwards; press into the Market District. You'll find strong resistance there. Be ready." 

And before he had the chance to protest, the voice was gone. 

The Vanguard turned to the waiting darkspawn. "The Darklord has spoken," he barked. "By his command, let us make for the markets and slaughter the surface people like lambs!"

And in a chorus of guttural roars, the Vanguard's forces pressed onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *As an aside, the Darklord is the name I reckon the darkspawn give to the Archdemon, while the Fade is known as the Spiritworld. It's not going to have any effect on the narrative, except that I now have an excuse not to have to explain the constant appearance of these words and what they mean.


	3. Massacre In the Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vanguard emerges into the Market District, into the waiting arms of the Knights of Redcliffe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, after much waiting around, here is my new piece. Blargh and humbug, I've wasted so much time not writing this. Damn me for being so changeable and easily distracted. 
> 
> Anyway, after much nonsense, here's my latest work. Is it any better? Not for me to decide. Over to you, dear readers.

"Press the attack!" yelled Teagan. "Don't let them get through the gates!" In front of him, the lesser part of the remaining city guard were standing valiantly against the darkspawn trying to break into the district. 

"Lord Teagan!" shouted one of the soldiers behind him. "We have prepared the ballistae as instructed. They are ready to fire at your command." 

"Hold back! Our men are still out there!" Teagan called back. He raised his sword over his head and spun it around in a circle. "Fall back! The ballistae are armed; get yourselves to safety!" 

At his words, what remained of the guard pulled a full retreat, barely making it past the three large ballistae before the darkspawn rounded the corner, weapons at the ready. The ballistae launched three large bolts into the waiting horde, bursting at least thirteen in the front rows into a mess of blood and meat. The remaining darkspawn looked at the ballistae reloading and fell back to the entrance, barely making it in time, and even then not before the reloaded weapons cut off the stragglers. 

The Bann let out a breath of exhaustion and relief, wiping the sweat from his brow with a metal-clad hand. But more fighting awaited him, he knew. Their only chance for success with the fall of the gates was to employ a series of delaying tactics in which the various army factions held a district for as long as they could. The darkspawn simply couldn't resist a chance to show off while conquering any and all opponents. 

\---

More coming soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a show. If anyone has a suggestion, put it in the comments. I'll give it due consideration. Over and out.


End file.
